He thought he did well.
But it had been exactly one month since his audition.
Damien still hadn't heard a peep—not a call, not an email, nothing, hell not even a rejection! It wasn't for lack of checking, either; his phone was practically like an extra limb, always attached to him. It's as if staring at a blank screen might somehow make it ring.
Damien slumped on the couch with a sigh, ruffling his messy hair.
Face it... You probably failed.
He'd already cycled through every stage of grief—and now he'd landed at acceptance.
Damien lifted his phone for the thousandth time, thumb hovering over the screen. Still nothing. The device stared back at him blankly, as if mocking his impatience.
"System," Damien muttered, sprawled on the sofa, eyes fixed gloomily on the ceiling. "Tell me honestly. Did I fail?"
System: [Host, from my data, the judges were pleased with your performance.]
"Then why has there been no reply?"
System: [I'm not sure either, host.]
"Ugh..." Damien groaned. "I sang well enough... and my dancing was pretty decent. Was it my face? Maybe I was too arrogant?"
System: [Host, your visual stat is very high. It is improbable your face is the issue.]
"Then was I too stiff? Too composed? Maybe they wanted someone messy—someone exciting," Damien shot upright. "System, did I come off as boring?"
System: [That, too, is highly unlikely. Host, your charm is A+.]
"Then what could it possibly be?"
System: [To remind the host, there is only a month left before the time limit.]
"Thanks for the reminder," Damien couldn't help but roll his eyes. "Really needed that." He knew the system meant well—but it certainly had a knack for blunt replies. "Is my luck that bad? Maybe the universe hates me."
System: [...]
He threw up his hands. "Okay, fine, maybe I should stop with this whole universe thing. What about something simple? Like... maybe they tried to contact me but couldn't get through? A missed email, a wrong phone number on the form, something like that." Even as he voiced it, he knew he'd filled out his contact information meticulously, but his desperation was giving him delusions.
System: [I recall you checking your phone number on the application multiple times before submission. And you've checked your spam several times now, host.]
Damien flopped back down, arms spread wide in defeat. "Honestly, at this point, maybe aliens abducted Starlite Media. Maybe tomorrow, I'll hear the news of the company disappearing." He laughed under his breath. He sounded manic—borderline crazy.
System: [Host, a plan would be wise. Perhaps you could start thinking up different ways to complete the mission. A plan B.]
"Fair." He sighed deeply, then suddenly sat up again. "But what if... they confused me with another contestant? Like some poor guy named Damien has been getting my calls this entire time—no? Okay, I'll stop."
He lied back down. "So that's it then? No convoluted truth. I just... didn't make the cut." Saying it out loud left a bitter taste, but also a strange, hollow relief—like the weight of uncertainty and worry finally dissipated.
Then—
Buzz. Buzz.
His phone.
Damien nearly fell off the couch in surprise. His phone lit up, vibrating against the wooden table. For a split second, he just stared, half convinced he was hallucinating. But no—the screen clearly displayed an incoming call from an unknown number.
His heart thudded.
Unknown number?
A month ago, he would have leapt on it. Now he hesitated.
System: [Will you not answer it, host?]
Damien swallowed and pressed the button. He held it to his ear, trying to keep his voice steady. "Hello? This is Damien."
A brisk, professional voice responded on the other end. "Hello, Damien. This is Starlite Media."
Damien's eyes went wide, and immediately stood upright. "A-Ah, yes!"
The woman on the line cleared her throat, sounding a touch embarrassed. "First of all, let me apologize for the delay in reaching out. I'm sure you've been wondering about the results."
"You could say that," Damien laughed weakly.
"There was a mix-up on our end," the caller continued. "We had two applicants named Damien, and, well... we switched your information with the other in our files by accident. In the end, we contacted the wrong one by mistake. We only realized the error when the other applicant showed up for the second round and, um, clearly wasn't the person we saw in the audition footage."
Damien was at a loss for words.
Were they serious?
"That's alright... These things happen."
"The judges were very impressed with your audition," the woman went on. "And we'd like to invite you to the second round scheduled the day after tomorrow, if you're available."
Damien blanked out.
The day after tomorrow... wasn't that just two days?!
Damien: "..."
"Hello?"
"Hi, yes, uh... I'm definitely available. Absolutely."
"Excellent," she replied. "We'll send you all the details by email right away. And again, I'm so sorry about the mix-up and the wait."
They exchanged a few more polite sign-offs, and then the call was over.
He slowly set the phone down, the room quiet except for his pounding heart. "That just happened..."
He checked his email and found the official invitation to the second round with an apology included. But the problem was...
"How the f*ck am I going to prepare something in just two days! Oh, heavens no, I'm gonna have to do another no-sleep marathon..."
Two days.
He was so not ready.
In the past month of sulking, he hadn't done any training.
Damien leapt to his feet, panic rising in his chest. He hadn't warmed up his voice or practiced his routine in weeks, and one glance at his reflection—wild hair, rumpled hoodie, a regretful amount of stubble—confirmed he currently looked more like a hungover man than an aspiring star.
"What should I do...?"
System: [Perhaps... starting off with a shower would be the best, host.]
Damien let out a sigh—the system was right.
"Shower, yeah. Good plan," he muttered as his mind already began frantically compiling a list of everything he needed to fix in the next 48 hours.
As he stumbled toward the bathroom, he threw a final glance at his phone on the table—proof that this wasn't all a delusion.
A second audition.
It had felt so out of his grasp five minutes ago, and now it was very, very real.
"I spent a month waiting for this," Damien muttered, "and now that it's here, I've never been more terrified."
Damien let out a shaky breath and managed a crooked grin. Two days. In two days he'd have to step back into that audition room.
"Alright," he whispered, steeling himself as he headed for the bathroom. "Time to get to work."